


Cold Enough

by Hock_hug



Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [29]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Depression, Just being unhealthy in general, M/M, Post Break Up, Sad, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/pseuds/Hock_hug
Summary: Nolan was always cold





	Cold Enough

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Depression, forms of self harm, detailed description in ending notes
> 
> The *** section is a flashback

His apartment was cold. It wasn’t anything new, but it hurt all the same. Travis seemed to warm everything around him, sunshine flowing through his smile and the warmth of a hearth in his laughter. Nolan hadn’t heard him laugh in so long. He glanced at his windows and considered opening his blinds for once, but as usual, he couldn’t bring himself to rise from his spot on the couch. His couch, now. Travis had left with everything he owned, including Nolan’s heart. He still remembered the day he went, and it left him raw.

***  
“Babe, I’m sorry, but you know it’s for the best.” Travis had tears in his eyes, but he had his head held high, and Nolan loved him all the more for it, and hurt all the more for it.

“I know, Trav, but you don’t have to go,” he choked out brokenly. “I love you, I promise I love you, you don’t have to go!” Nolan felt like a broken record, the same few things on repeat falling from his lips. I love you, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, over and over again.

Travis just smiled sadly and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. 

“I know you love me, and I love you too, but I don’t know if it’s enough.” And with that, he walked out of the room, out the door, and he didn’t look back once.  
***

Nolan hadn’t been the same since. How could he? He lost the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t know if he would ever get it back. The headaches got worse after Travis left, and instead of curling up against him and seeking his comfort, he curled up on his kitchen floor. If he didn’t deserve Travis, he didn’t deserve comfort. He didn’t deserve the comfort of his bed, of his pillows, or the warmth that would come from it. He couldn’t even go into their- his- room anymore anyways. It seemed so empty without Travis or his things there anymore. He slept on the couch, only leaving it to use the bathroom, the shower, or to eat until he started training. 

Maybe he pushed himself a little harder than he needed to when he trained, but nobody ever complained about it. Maybe the way he threw up more than he kept down wasn’t for the best, but it showed that he was working. Maybe he wasn’t okay, but how could anyone expect him to be?

\---

The headaches only got worse. He missed training camp and spent the entire time on his couch, avoiding calls and texts and whatever comfort his teammates tried to give him. He didn’t want it. He missed their first game, and he spent that night laying on his kitchen floor in his boxers, letting the cold seep into his bones. He fell asleep shaking and woke up in pain, but that wasn’t new. The doctors said he was getting better, that he’d be able to play soon, but he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

When he finally entered the locker room, he immediately wanted to turn back around and leave. The entire team was so happy he was there, so glad he was okay, couldn’t wait to see him on the ice, patting him on the back and giving him half hugs he didn’t quite return. He played his heart out and didn’t look at Travis. He skated until he couldn’t breathe and he didn’t look at Travis. His head pounded, and he didn’t look at Travis. Travis had the puck, Travis shot, Travis scored, and Nolan finally looked at him, only to see his joy turn to horror. It all seemed to happen too fast. One moment he was still, the next he was on the ice, under someone, and he hurt.

His ribs hurt. His back hurt. His neck hurt. He laid there, on the ice, and he really fucking hurt. He could barely hear a scrum starting behind him, but he couldn’t focus on it, there was too much around him to concentrate. He felt someone kneel next to him and he tried to answer the questions they were asking, but he just hurt. He tried to stand, but he was shaking too hard. He tried again and made it, gripping the trainer’s arm like a lifeline. There was movement in his peripherals, and he glanced over to see Travis looking back at him, face white, gloves off, and nose bleeding, and Nolan was so, so cold.

\---

Nolan was fine. He practiced the next day, he played the next game, but he was still so cold. It got harder and harder to get himself off the couch, harder to swallow the pills that the doctors said would help him, harder to look his team in the eyes and smile. He did it all the same, because if he didn’t people would worry, and he didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve the stress. It took more than he knew he had to give, but it worked. The bags under his eyes were dark, but his smile was bright even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Every once in a while someone would corner him, ask him if he was okay, and he’d joke and brush it off, promising them that he’d tell them if something was up. He was fine, as far as anyone was concerned, and nobody was concerned.

Well, not nobody.

Nolan hadn’t asked for the key Travis had, and Travis didn’t give it to him. He had actually forgotten about it until the door opened on an off day. Travis walked across the threshold and stopped in his tracks.

“Nol?”

Nolan couldn’t bring himself to rise from the couch. He couldn’t bring himself to call out, so he just closed his eyes and prayed that Travis would leave. His prayers went unanswered as Travis walked into the living room and knelt beside the couch.

“Nolan.”

He reached out a hand to touch him, and almost immediately drew back.

“Nolan, you’re freezing.”

Nolan just nodded in response and wished he’d asked for the fucking key back. Travis was on his feet in an instant and moved towards the bedroom that was once his, and returned with a blanket gripped in one of his hands.

“Nolan, have you been sleeping?”

Nolan shrugged and nodded, refusing to open his eyes, afraid of the disgust he’d see written on Travis’s face. 

Travis moved closer until he was kneeling beside him again.

“Have you been sleeping out here?” Nolan nodded.

“Where’s your pillow? Why did you leave your blankets in the room? Nolan, are you okay?”

Nolan had to open his eyes at that, and he sat up and plastered on his best media smile.

“I’m fine, Travis. I’m just a little cold.”

Travis obviously didn’t believe him, but he didn’t say a word. He just draped the blanket across Nolan’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. Nolan felt tears burn at his eyes as Travis stood again, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and fall into Travis’s arms one more time, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t enough.

“Nolan, I have to go, but please get some help.” Nolan started to interrupt him, but Travis cut him off. “No, you aren’t okay, please don’t lie to me, please promise me you’ll get help.” Travis begged, and Nolan looked at his lap. They sat there for a moment before Travis sighed and stood up.

“I’m sorry, Nols, but I can’t help you if you aren’t willing to help yourself. You need to get better, you need to function, and this isn’t good enough.”

Not good enough. Never good enough, never enough, Nolan could never be enough. Hot tears ran down his face as Travis turned around and left without looking back. Nolan let the blanket fall from his shoulders and onto the floor and laid back down. He was so, so cold, but at least he could feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Nolan responds to Travis breaking up with him by refusing to take care of himself past his basic needs, the most mentioned forms being sleeping on the couch and kitchen floor, and refusing to let himself be warm.


End file.
